Honestly, inside of five minutes that wild animal was a wreck. Every time he tried to claw the paper from his head he howled, because it pulled his hair and hurt him. I don’t say I was glad to sit up there and watch him, because there isn’t much fun in seeing animals suffer. Maybe he wasn’t suffering, but anyway, he was half crazy. But how about me? Safety first.

Pretty soon he kind of half rolled and half staggered over against the trunk of my tree and I knew he couldn’t see at all. Then he lay there with his back up against it trying to rub the sheet off his back, and all the while he kept pawing his head and making it worse for himself. I guess even if he had gotten the paper off, he’d still be blind, because the gum would keep his eyes shut.

By that time I knew I was safe, because he was even more helpless than he would have been if I had shot him and not killed him. It was mostly because he couldn’t see, and that got him rattled, and you’re no good when you’re rattled. All I wanted was for him to get away from the tree so I wouldn’t have to be too near him, and then I’d shinny down and hit the trail for camp.

But just then I had another thought. Maybe you won’t believe me, but I felt sorry for that wild animal. I knew how I’d feel if I was in such a fix as that. If I had only had a pistol I would have shot him, but boy scouts don’t carry pistols—only in crazy story books. We never shoot anything, except the chutes in Coney Island, and you can’t call that cruelty to animals.

And if I just went off and left him there, maybe he’d stagger around in the woods and claw at himself and tear himself all to pieces and get all bloody and just die. That wouldn’t be much fun, would it? As soon as I wasn’t scared any more I felt sorry for him—that’s the honest truth. I saw how he was beaten and I felt sorry for him. I knew he was really stronger than I was, and that it wasn’t a fair fight. I don’t care what he intended to do, it wasn’t a fair fight. Even if I had shot him he might have looked brave and noble, kind of. But with all that stuff on him and the dirt and grass sticking to his fur, I just sort of felt as if nobody has a right to make an animal look like that.

So I took the rope and made a lasso knot in it and let myself down the trunk as far as I dared. I have to admit I was sort of scared, but you have to be decent when you win. You have to be, even if it’s only a wild animal.

I tried two or three times to get the noose over his head, but I couldn’t, because he wasn’t still enough. But after a couple of minutes I managed it and then I tied the other end of the rope to the tree. After that, I climbed away out to the end of the lowest branch and it bent down with me and I dropped to the ground.

First I thought I’d go over and touch him to see how he felt, but I just didn’t dare to. I was scared of him even then. So I just started off along the path, going scout pace, and when I got a little way off so I knew I was safe, I looked back and said, “You stay where you are and don’t get excited, and I’ll fix it for you.”

Because anyway, I hadn’t done my good turn yet and it was pretty near dark.